


The Misunderstanding

by lodessa



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-24
Updated: 2006-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodessa/pseuds/lodessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s in her soul, in her very essence, and he may be a god but Cassandra thinks he’s ridiculous for feeling cheated out of his possession by her physical seclusion, when she’s utterly saturated with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Misunderstanding

He’s always there. The misunderstanding, Cassandra thinks of it as a misunderstanding not a disagreement, is particularly ridiculous for this reason. He’s always in her, in an all enveloping way that no one else could ever be. He’s in her soul, in her very essence, and he may be a god but Cassandra thinks he’s ridiculous for feeling cheated out of his possession by her physical seclusion, when she’s utterly saturated with him. She feels him pulsing in her veins with every pounding of her heart. He argues, if he’s so entwined with her, so intermixed with her existence, why does she push his body away from hers; what is the point of this separation of flesh? Cassandra sometimes thinks he knows he’s wrong though; because he could make her and he doesn’t. She believes he has to know that it would taint the bond they do have, poison the power of his presence within her; of course, in an eternity of existence, he has to have made that mistake before. So he argues, threatens, but does not cross the line she’s drawn in the sand. For this she loves him, for this his weight on her movements and thoughts, even his curse, is welcome and not something to be cast off. He says if she truly cherished the link like she claims she wouldn’t put silly walls up, but it’s precisely why she does.

Agamemnon has no such compunctions. He leaves her core alone, content with the surface as the most that can be known of anyone. Cassandra has some contempt for that, for his crude baseness, but how can a man (king or no) compare to a god? He cannot, and Cassandra does not hate him as he presses her down into the rich sheepskins of his cabin bed and takes from her what she’s denied divinity. He is not divine, but earth and salt; the body is where he dwells, even as she feels Apollo quaver within her. Let him have what earthly things he can take comfort in. He means no evil, they never do, as he promises to make her a queen, as if that could repay her for the family and the home lost to her forever, and the life she cut out for herself snatched away. She grips the earth ware jar tighter as the nausea of premonition trying to spill forward pulses through her body, light trying to escape, but she chokes it back because she’s learned better. No one likes the raven, and her words are warded by Apollo’s resentment, best to leave them for him alone, an attempt to explain she means no disrespect. She sees blood and blood over that, over and over, and Clytemnestra like Eris, screeching at her brother’s side, blood splattered glory. She swallows the bile in her throat back down, feeling the reassuring sensation of Apollo within her and bends herself around Agamemnon on the outside. He has so very little sun and wind left.


End file.
